


This house is a fucKING NIGHTMARE

by Callmepapi



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Poison, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Valdo Marx Being an Asshole, Wink and you miss it Geraskier, rat poison, very lightly implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28479018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmepapi/pseuds/Callmepapi
Summary: Valdo marx will try anything to win the music festival competion, even poison.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 165





	This house is a fucKING NIGHTMARE

**Author's Note:**

> The title is probably my favirote vine that I always quote to myself when the smallest thing happens because it’s hilarious.
> 
> Anywho, I’ve been running very low on motivation juice and I barely managed to finish this. It took me four days.... FOUR DAYS! I normally write in an hour. I haven’t been sketching either so I don’t really know what’s wrong with me lol, just in case anyone is wondering why I haven’t and won’t be posting much until I get my motivation back lol.
> 
> Enjoy xx <3<3<3

The winter music festival was something that Valdo Marx never missed. He entered to win and lost every time, though his efforts rewarded him with many career opportunities it was never enough. His pride fell more and more every festival that he lost the competition to the same idiot, though his anger grew and grew.

This year was no different. He made his way there, secured a room at the inn - the best room of the house had already been given away, and Valdo could guess who had taken it - then he got some food at the tavern.

It was when he was enjoying his hot pork that a figure settled down beside him and lay a heavy hand across his shoulder.

“ _ Valdo _ !” The drunken voice said. Valdo looked across at the two blue eyes staring at him, half lidded and his breath reeking of alcohol.

“ _ Julian _ ,” he sighed, “can’t I get any peace from your caterwauling? Do I have to be subjected to your voice not only at the festival but in my own private time too?”

“ _ Valdo… _ ” Jaskier rested his head on Valdo’s shoulder, “we both know you love the sound of my voice. It’s the winning voice after all. Do you think you'll win this year, like you thought all the other years? And the years before them?” Valdo shook his head and forcefully pushed Jaskier off his shoulder, Jaskier laughing as he did so.

“Of  _ course _ I think I’ll win. Wouldn’t be much of a bard if I came here to lose, besides, I have a special trick that’s going to help me immensely.” Jaskier brightened up at this and opened his mouth into a wide grin.

“Oh,  _ do tell _ ?” Valdo scoffed at him.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he said, “now leave me in peace to finish my meal. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again shortly.” Jaskier laughed as he stumbled up from the seat.

“Oh, how I missed your snobby, little voice, you bloated pig.” And with that, he was away, swallowed into the crowd of drunken bard’s and tavern wenches.

The next morning, valdo woke up with a plan in mind.

He went to the hunters shed, who sold many useful poisons for hunting the wilderness in the forest, or simple vermin that was found on your doorstep.

“And this?”

“The rat poison?”

“What would happen to a human, had they ingested it?”

“Oh, uh… can’t be rightfully certain, sir. They would get a deadly illness, though.”

He purchased it, the Hunter didn’t say anything about his question, just kept to himself. As he should.

The festival was in three days. He kept to his plan and headed back to the tavern for a drink, just as he hoped, Jaskier was there. He was alone, which was even better, and he was scribbling down in his notebook, writing songs that he would never get to sing at the festival.

Valdo made his way up to the table, two cups of ale in hand, one with rat poison included, “ _ Jaskier _ .”

Jaskier looked up at him, grinning, “valdo! Do sit! There’s plenty of room for your fat arse,” he laughed. Valdo resisted the urge to roll his eyes and make a remark, instead he sat next to the bard and offered him the tampered cup.

“An offering of peace, for the festival,” he smiled. Jaskier eyed the cup warily then smiled.

“ _ Valdo _ , I do hope you're not trying to bribe me to let you win, I never thought you’d sunk that low. But, an ale is an ale, and I will accept your humble bribe.” Jaskier let his pencil drop to his notebook and grasped the cup in his hand. They clinked their cups together before each taking a sip, Jaskier’s larger than Valdo's.

“So, anything planned for the festival, any special songs I should worry about? What about that trick of yours, how’s that coming along?” Valdo smirked into his cup before taking another sip.

“It’s coming along quite nicely, should start taking effect soon,” he said. Jaskier smiled and drank some more.

“Oh I do look forward to seeing what you’ve cooked up from that walnut of a brain in your head.”

“Oh it’s something spectacular, I assure you,” he said. Jaskier eyed him suspiciously before downing his drink and slamming it onto the table. He stood up and picked up his notebook as well.

“Well, I best be off! I’ll see you again, valdo,” with a wink and a smile, Jaskier left the tavern.

}{

Valdo was awoken through the night to random thumps and bumps through the thin walls of the inn, mainly coming from downstairs and also the room next door to him; the largest room -  _ Jaskier’s _ room.

He slipped away from the warmth of his bed and towards the door, timing his actions along with the sounds he could hear. When there was a rush of footsteps passing by, Valdo opened the door. He was met with a timid woman who jumped and dropped the wet towel she was clutching.

“Is something the matter?” Valdo asked. The woman shook her head frantically.

“No, no, no. Just go to sleep, please, nothings wrong.”

“I know a bit of first aid,” he said, “ I can help if something’s wrong.” She eyed him warily before nodding and walking to Jaskier’s room, Valdo followed closely behind.

“One of our guests has fallen ill. He’s got a terrible fever… and I think he’s in pain, he keeps moaning and- and writhing and I don’t know what to do!” Valdo grabbed her shoulders and gently shook her.

“Calm down, woman! Go and get a healer and bring them here. This bard’s my friend, I’ll take care of him, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” The woman nodded and ran off. 

Jaskier’s room was stale and stuffy, he needed a window opened, he needed to let Jaskier breathe. He was in his bed, the covers pushed up to his chest, sweat dripping from his skin. Valdo took a seat next to him on an old, wooden chair. He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back, shaking his head at the prone form lying helplessly on the bed before him.

“Oh,  _ Julian _ ,” valdo tutted, “if only you’d have taken time off this year, let me win the festival, like I truly deserve. Maybe then we wouldn’t be here.” Jaskier couldn’t reply. His eyes frantically roamed behind closed lids and his lips uttered silent words. His fingers twitched where they lay on the sheets, clammy and cold.

“I expect you to pay me back for the rat poison by the way, it was a  _ bit _ overpriced.” Jaskier moaned and subconsciously brought an arm to rest over his belly as cramps rolled through him. His face was pulled taut, brows furrowed together in pain and the corners of his mouth downturned as he made sad noises.

“I expect the doctor will be here soon, he’ll prescribe you with some sort of medicine to be taken ‘ _ twice a day’ _ … but then I’ll step in, your loyal friend who ‘ _ only cares for the best of you, Julian’  _ and I’ll pour that medicine out the window and get right back to the poison because  _ that _ is what you deserve, you filthy beast,” he spits at him. Jaskier moans in response, not likely aimed at him but to the pain in his guts.

“Doctors here! I’m here, don’t worry!” A round, little man entered the room and Valdo stood up, letting the doctor examine Jaskier. Valdo brought his hands to his mouth, feigning the act of a terrified friend.

“My, my… he  _ is _ unwell,” the doctor said, his spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, “i think he’ll make it through the night. I'll just give him this,” the man dropped some medicine into jaskier’s open mouth and almost immediately the crease between his brows lessened. Valdo internally fumed at this, “I'll come back around lunchtime everyday for a week, I’ll need to give him  _ this  _ medicine continuously, this is nasty business. If he’s a bard, then I’m afraid he might not make it for the festival.”

“There’s no need to come back, doctor,” Valdo spoke. All eyes locked on him and he felt a small sense of pride at the sudden attention, “I’m his friend, I only want the best for him. I’ll take care of him. He’s always getting into some kind of mess and I don’t want to trouble you with him.” The doctor, though hesitant at first, beamed a smile at him.

“Well, that’s great news! Just two drops of this everyday for a week and he should be right as rain. It truly is a shame about the festival, but I’m sure he can cope.” The doctor handed valdo a small glass bottle with a dropper then left, the girl following behind with a smile aimed at valdo.

Once the door was shut and the footsteps were gone, Valdo took his seat by jaskier’s side once more.

“Can you  _ believe _ they fell for it. Am I truly that good an actor, well, I  _ know _ I’m better than you anyway, you worthless pig. Look at you, so defenceless and weak, shivering and trembling in your small little bed, poor thing,” he combed through jaskier’s fringe, ''I'll take good care of you, Julian,” he said. 

“Just rest.”

}{

The festival comes and goes, Valdo wins with an easy victory. Jaskier’s condition worsens as Valdo continues to poison him. At this point, he’s not sure why he’s doing it. It’s nice to see someone who held themselves so strongly, finally so weak and defenceless.

Jaskier’s skin had turned pale and almost grey. His lips were tinged blue and his face was in a near constant grimace of pain. His body protested the poison as much as it could, and, at this point, valdo could hear the groans of protest coming from within jaskier’s belly as soon as he’d swallowed the vial.

The doctor’s were perplexed. Valdo continued to play the act of ‘ _ innocent best friend’ _ and it worked splendidly.

The only moments Jaskier was lucid was when Valdo made him swallow the vial, which then knocked him out almost instantly. He had to keep Jaskier subdued unless he wanted him to spill his plans or shout for help. Jaskier was smarter than he let on. Valdo was quite shocked whether first time he heard Jaskier rasp up ‘get the  _ fuck _ away from me!’ And he immediately shoved more poison down his throat. He wasn’t sure how, but Jaskier figured it out anyway. Useless swine, can’t even get poisoned without fucking it up.

Nonetheless, his plans were going swimmingly. Judging by the bruises under Jaskier's eyes and the deathly pallor of his skin, well, Jaskier was practically  _ kissing  _ death rather than being at its door.

Everything was great… until the Witcher came along.

Valdo heard the voice coming from downstairs. He was busying himself with contentedly listening to Jaskier sobs and moans as he cradled his burned-out belly. The bard had taken to vomiting up bits of blood and Valdo had to keep a bucket nearby lest he wanted the sheets stained, that would be more to add to his list of expenses right now.

The voice downstairs was low and gravely, but strong enough that Valdo could hear it through the floorboards. He heard it utter ‘Jaskier’ and suddenly he was up like a spring, telling the bard to ‘shoosh!’ And covering jaskier’s mouth with his hands in an attempt to stifle the moans.

“I’m looking for a bard, Jaskier.”

“Master Jaskier, of course!… Oh, I’m afraid it’s bad news, sir witcher. Master Jaskier is gravely ill. Doctor thinks he won’t make it to the end of the week.”

“What?…Where is he? Take me to him!” He shouted.

Fuck. Valdo was in  _ deep _ trouble if the Witcher was here. He knew in an instant that he would be found out as soon as the Witcher stepped foot in the room, the smell of rat poison wasn’t noticeably strong to him, but he’d heard the tales of Witcher’s spectacular senses. He was going to get caught and he was going to get hanged.

Valdo jumped away from Jaskier, who was still wincing with pain, and grabbed his satchel with shaking hands. He pulled out a thick roll of packed herbs, incense that the doctors had given him to help little julian fight his dreaded disease. They were to be lit and the strong odour would be breathed into julians lungs and heal him from the inside. 

Which was why he had stuffed it inside his satchel instead of lighting it. But now he had a use for it. He lit it up from a burning candle on jaskier’s bedside and waved it around the room, letting the strong smoke fill the air.

The door flew open and valdo couldn’t suppress the jump of fright he gave out.

“Jaskier.” The Witcher's face looked devoid of any emotion, but only Jaskier would be able to tell that he was shocked, in pain of seeing his best friend in this state.

The Witcher's eyes flicked to Valdo, holding the burning incense in his hand.

“I-it’s to help his lungs,” he stuttered. The witcher didn’t respond, only moved to jaskier’s bedside and grabbed one of jaskier clammy hands in his own. Valdo winced in disgust at the mere thought of holding one of Julian's cold, sweaty appendages, but the Witcher never saw, with his back turned to valdo and his main focus on jaskier’s wellbeing.

“Is the doctor caring for him,” The witcher asked. The innkeep nodded, his face still in fear of him.

“All the doctor’s words go through valdo here, sir. He’s been caring for him, he’s the bard’s friend.” The Witcher looked up at the name, and Valdo felt himself glow at the fact that even this  _ Witcher _ knew who he was.

“Valdo? Valdo…Marx?” The Witcher asked hesitantly.

“The one and only,” he did a small bow, “at your service, Witcher.” The Witcher’s eyes flicked back from Valdo to the innkeep.

“Get me some warm water and a cloth, you, Valdo, I need you to go to the doctor’s and request some erpinsdale, got it?” He asked.

Valdo sighed internally but nodded nonetheless. He left the room at once, glad that the Witcher hadn’t mentioned the smell of the poison at all. His plan was still in motion, the poison would run its course.

}{

Geralt sat by jaskier’s bedside, eyebrows drawn together as he watched the bard sweat and grit his teeth through the pain. He gripped jaskier’s hand in his own and with the other hand he gently shook jaskier’s shoulders to wake him.

Valdo Marx was  _ not _ Jaskier’s friend. He may not pay too much attention to the bard, but when someone wishes death upon an enemy, you remember who it’s for.

“Jaskier?” He whispered, “Jaskier, I need you to wake up. Julian!” He shouted the bard’s true name in an attempt to wake him.

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open. He glanced up at Geralt, his eyes only half open, and he blinked once before croaking out a “Geralt?”

“It’s me Jaskier, I’m here. I need you to tell me what’s happening to you?” Geralt watched Jaskier's throat bob as he swallowed. The bard winced before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Wh-where’s Valdo?” He asked. Geralt gripped his hand again.

“I sent him to get a made up herb. The innkeeper said you two were friends, last I remember you were wishing death upon him.” Jaskier smiled at him and let his eyes slip shut again. He was silent for a moment and Geralt began to think he had fallen asleep were it not for him suddenly speaking up again.

“There was… a festival. Valdo… he- he said he had… a special trick.… I didn't know he- he meant poison,” Jaskier spoke, his voice was small. Whatever this poison was that Valdo gave him, it was killing him. He needed help, healing, “but… he didn’t stop. The only m-moments I was awake, lucid,… he continued to feed me the poison,” he gave a weak smile to Geralt, “I couldn’t fight back… I was- was… too weak. I-I’m sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Geralt placed an affectionate kiss to jaskier’s knuckles, the bard watched him from where his head lay on the pillows, his eyebrows furrowed in constant pain and his cracked lips agape, “he’ll get what he deserves.”

“No” Geralt looked up at him in confusion.

“ _ No _ ?” He asked. Jaskier swallowed again.

“Just… just get me… out of here, please. Take me away from th-this  _ fucking _ place,” he sobbed, “ _ please _ .” A tear fell down Jaskier's temple and Geralt’s heart broke at the sight. His protective side overwhelmed him and he didn’t waste a minute before scooping Jaskier up in his arms and leaving the inn as fast as possible.

He ignored the innkeep and made a dash for Roach, settling Jaskier on top and letting him slump forward. He ran back to Jaskier's room to grab his lute and his things, stuffing them into Jaskier’s own satchel and leaving the inn.

He attached the lute to roach’s saddle and stuffed jaskier’s smaller satchel inside his own. A voice rang out behind him, that made him grind his teeth together in anger, “leaving so soon? Are you sure Julian's well enough to go? Maybe he should stay with me for a bit longer.”

Geralt turned towards Valdo, clutching a variety of different herbs in his hand, “and let you poison him to death?” he said, “you’re lucky Jaskier wants to leave first, else you’d be choking on your own blood!”

“G’rlt… p-please?” Jaskier whimpered, still slouched forward against roach’s neck. Geralt glanced at him before turning back to Roach and bringing himself up onto her saddle. He didn’t chance even another look at the other bard, it was likely to make him want to swing his sword across his neck or slash it through his belly.

He kicked Roach into a swift gallop and they made their way out of the city, towards the forest where Geralt  _ knew _ he could make a good camp. He would brew tea until Jaskier was better. He would heal him up, make sure he ate enough. And he would never,  _ ever _ , spend another winter alone; Geralt was going to bring him to kaer morhen next year, where he would be safe from all harm.

“Th-thank you… G’rlt.” Geralt nodded behind him and wrapped an arm around his belly, letting Jaskier lean against his chest and finally fall into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
